


Then Comes The Sun

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-16
Updated: 2003-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: At the end of every journey, there's a resting place.





	Then Comes The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Then Comes The Sun

### Then Comes The Sun

#### by Marcia Elena

  


Title: Then Comes the Sun 

Author: Marcia Elena 

Email: 

Keywords: M/K, first person POV 

Spoilers: Set after 'Existence', so everything until then. 

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: At the end of every journey, there's a resting place. 

Written for the 11th Lyric Wheel, the 'Transports of Love' Wheel, February 2003. 

Disclaimer: Mulder and Krycek are not mine. They belong solely to each other. 

Author's notes: Thank you to Pollyanna for the wonderful, wonderful lyrics; the somewhat unorthodox interpretation is to be blamed on me. 

For Logan, and for the guys. I love you all. 

* * *

Then Comes the Sun   
by Marcia Elena 

The train advances over the railway in a soothing, steady rhythm, moving forward toward its destination. I wonder briefly what I'm going to find when I get there, whether it's going to be Heaven or Hell. Then I snort, amused by my flair for the dramatic, shaking my head at myself even as I do a mental shrug. What does it matter? There'll be no one waiting for me at the end of this journey. 

So I sit, looking out the window, watching trees and mountains and rivers pass by. I lose track of time; the only thing that marks the passage of hours is the sunlight shining in from outside, changing direction, occasionaly interspersed by soft shadows. The light seems almost alive, streaming molten through the air, warming everything it touches. I remember in a flash of yellow-old memory how it fascinated me as a child, dust motes turned to gold as they danced in the bright rays, my hands trying to catch them only to send them swirling out of reach. In the now, I raise my hands, mimicking those long gone days for an instant. But then I stop, look at the light as it touches my hands; look at my hands as they touch nothing. Familiar, almost welcome pain stirs inside me, flares for a moment, quiets down. I wince, lowering my hands and making up my mind not to think about the past. 

I look out the window again; and as I drift, my mind is filled by images of you, despite my recent resolution. Or, perhaps, in spite of it; I've always been a contrary, and I've never been able to escape you. I ask myself what was it that brought you and I together, time and again. Was it the universe's own contrariness, or was it fate? Not for the first time, I find myself alone and know that if I really had you once, then I'd have you when I'm gone. But I'm gone now, you're gone; it's all, all gone, lost to me. Swirling, swirling, dazzling and coveted and out of reach. 

And I don't have you. 

Huge white clouds in the horizon, getting slowly nearer. Long interlude of shade as the train passes under them. But then comes the sun again, molten, golden, warm as it touches everything. Yet my hands touch nothing, and inside I'm cold. 

The view outside changes gradually; mountains dip down into valleys, valleys flatten and stretch out into plains, the trees thinning in number, the light brightening in intensity. Rivers flow, furious and calm, shimmering in the sun, water seeming like light, reflecting the sky, becoming one with it. 

Without any early warning, the train whistles and slows to a halt. The sudden, absolute silence is disconcerting, and I rise to my feet, making my way to the exit, surprised to be carrying less baggage than I thought I would be. 

My surprise only grows when I step down onto the platform and see you standing there. 

"What took you so long?" you ask as you approach me. And your words rumble and crash through me, moving like thunder, jagged as lightning, and I feel it, remember it all, the lack of inflection in your voice, the total absence of emotion in your eyes as I'm shot down in front of you. And god, even dead it hurts, it stings, it burns. 

"I took the scenic route," I rasp, swallowing hard before frowning at you. "What...? How...?" I fluster. 

You shrug. "Final stop," you say matter-of-factly. Then, more gently, "I missed you." 

I stare at you, hopeful, disbelieving. 

Your face softens. "It took me a while to realize it, but you have me, Alex," you whisper. You look around us, and up, and finally at me again, sun blazing everywhere. "You have me," you assure me. "Forever, it seems." And you raise your hand, offering it to me. 

I step closer to you, fit my palm to yours, left to right. I look at our hands, lace our fingers together, light touching us both, your words echoing in my mind. "You have me," I echo back. "Is this He...?" I begin, trail off. 

"Either one, or the other," you shrug again. "But I think I'll call it home," you add, nonchalant as ever. And you smile, tightening your grip on my hand. 

I smile back, stepping closer still. And the sun is in your eyes now, in my heart. 

Molten, golden, warm. 

And never again out of reach. 

* * *

Steel Rails sung by Alison Krauss   
(Louise Branscomb/One Note Pub.-Sawgrass Music, BMI) 

Steel rails, chasing sunshine round the bend 

Winding through the trees, like a ribbon in the wind. 

I don't mind not knowing what lies down the track 

Cause I'm looking out ahead, to keep my mind from turning back 

It's not the first time I've found myself alone and known 

If I really had you once, then I'd have you when I'm gone. 

Whistle blows, blowin' lonesome in my mind 

Calling me along that never ending metal line. 

Steel rails, chasing sunshine round the bend 

Winding through the trees, like a ribbon in the wind. 

I don't mind not knowing what lies down the track 

Cause I'm looking out ahead, to keep my mind from turning back 

Sun is shining, through the open boxcar door 

Lying in my mind with the things I've known before. 

I've lost count of the hours, days, and nights 

The rhythm of the rails keeps the motion in my mind 

Steel rails, chasing sunshine round the bend 

winding through the trees, like a ribbon in the wind. 

I don't mind not knowing what lies down the track 

Cause I'm looking out ahead, to keep my mind from turning back.   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Marcia Elena


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